75. Mahila Samiti Inc.

There has to be some supernatural force acting behind the spam ads I get on my mobile. I am positively certain of it.

Else, why on earth have I been getting ads like the one below for three days now.

"Mega Offer on weight reducing sauna slim belt 999/- only. Direct from company. Reduce upto 10 kgs weight in 45 days. Cal 9360******".

Alright, I get your message. 

In other news, the past week(actually, the week I started writing this post) saw yours truly busily visiting places where a motley crowd of chitthis, perimas, maamis, paattis* and other board members of Mahila Samiti Inc. had assembled in order to look at colorful toys placed on an 'odd' number of shelves, and generally discuss vaira mookuthi and moonu poun necklace**.


Yours truly obviously looked like a complete idiot asking what poun meant, and whether it was poun or pavun or pound, as these were the different phonetic sounds that were produced on usage of the word and understandably, invited wrath and scorn upon herself, what with maamis exclaiming "Kalyana vayasu aachu… poun/pavun/pound na teriyaadha di?"***. Sigh. This insultisation was an expected outcome of yours truly's naivete on such important issues. What happened next was not. "Kozhandhai… oru paattu paaden"****. Cringe. Looked around for help but got only sympathy and eagerly-waiting-to-pounce eyes. Did a quick brute-force-cum-permutation-combination-jumble. What were my options, if any at all? Sore throat? My dog died? Pass the baton to someone else? Much to my disgrace, I realised MS Inc. had been solemnly staring and pining to listen to my crow-like voice all this while. Too late to try any of the above options, I offered a little prayer to the Gods to somehow miraculously make me some classic Indian Idol type singer, just for those 8-10 odd uncomfortable moments. Please, please, God. Blurred images of my mother disowning me after this stint paraded the projector screen of my mind. Decision time. I switched on the electronic tanpura…. Gonnnggggggggg. Started singing standard krithi in Kamala Manohari with standard thappu thaalam*****. Sounds of 'tch tch' reverberated across the room. I would like to believe it was MS Inc.'s involvement into my melodious crooning. Please don't wake me up from my reverie.

Ok, that apart, Chennai has this strange form of untouchability rampant in buses. This morning, I surprisingly got into this bus that wasn't crowded, going by my track record of standing in the bus throughout my way to office. Anyway, that's that. So what happened is that this bus was pretty free, so to speak. Ladies 'partition' of the bus was house full, though there were a couple of vacant seats on the gents side of the bus. But guess what? 3-4 ladies chose to stand instead of going and occupying the empty seats on the gents side, more so if a man was already sitting in one of the two seats. Ok, suit yourself, I thought. I coolly went and hopped into one of those seats. Holy Mayawati! If only looks could kill, I would have been turned into ashes. The entire assemblage of ladies on the now-other side of the bus had started giving me looks like I was travelling the whole of Tamilnadu in a bus wearing a bikini. Ok, yeah, go get up, pick drums and go about the city announcing my persecution.

*  small aunty, big aunty, aunty of aunty, grandmas

** diamond nose ring and 3 poun/pavun/pound(still just as confused) necklace

*** You have attained a marriageable age... Do you not understand even this much?

**** Child, sing a song for us

***** A mismatch between the tune and the beat

73. Akhiyon se goli maare

This stale post was rotting in my drafts folder. Dear post, time for Nirvana. 

Of all the embarassing things I put myself through, this one was undoubtedly an #epic(Thanks Twitter!) case. And ironically, only if it weren't for the absolute side-splittingly humorous element of the story.....

As a part of the 'induction' process into 'another' family, a 'Meet the Parents' session gets scheduled at Pizza Hut with yours truly feeling like a micro-organism under a microscope(minus the methyl blue stains and the slide). Quite obviously, for somebody like me, a quick to-do list meant not to raise voice(like usual) so much so that people across next four streets can hear; sit, stand, etc. in a way that would atleast remotely appear feminine(somehow); not jhapatta-marofy on the food, going by past infamous record between yours truly and the sister; not to trip over and fall flat, thanks to duck-like-gait; try_max to avoid foot-in-mouth syndrome and political incorrectness(and not fail at it like the previous zillion times).

69. Chronicles of Tam-Brahm land

Dear Non-Tamil readers of this blog,
This is a highly Tanglified post. Due to maximum uage of resources like patience and sincerity in a highly productive activity, Farmville, I am currently running out of stock to translate every single tanglified word into inglees. However, due to the deluge of fan mails urging me to do so, and also because this blog is a very unbiased blog and meets the emotional needs of all and sundry, particularly the mentally challenged, since the author can to a great extent relate to them, few important, life-changing recorded events have been translated for the benefit of the readers. The last sentence had 61 words and 6 commas !

From Madras to Tirunelveli to Kallidaikurichi to Madurai to Trichy to Srirangam to Madras - The Almanac

68. The Queen's Promise

This is in the interest of those of you who missed this in the newspaper. Mayawati, the head honcho and the woman behind catapulted growth and progress in Uttar Pradesh has now promised the junta "..... interrupted power supply". Needless to say, this is "An significant step....". Click here to view the complete advertisement. Also find the proof of such a dauntless and proud claim by behenji below, obtained from livemint.

I don't know why the inner realms of my mind suggest a Freudian slip - a mistake in speech or action in which a person supposedly shows his or her true subconscious desires. As I type this, my computer goes on inverter mode. Power cut.

66. Ghar Se Nikalo Aandolan

Junta, it was really nice knowing each one of you(however little). This, ahemmm.. farewell, is because I am ending my life soon. (Ok, that doesn't make too much of sense, as I don't have a life as of now anyway :| ) Yes, Momraaj(a subtler version of Yamraaj) has given me the ultimatum. She has yet again declared the 'right time'(after several 'right times' in the past few months) to pack me off to some weird place where I see myself changing diapers of fat kids and watching 'Ye rishta kya kehlata hai' with future mother-in-law. Oh, Jejus !(Rakhi Sawant style). Pack-up time. I have been found singing

Bheed Mein Yun Na Chodo Mujhe
Ghar Laut Ke Bhi Aa Naa Paoon Maa

Bhej Na Itna Door Mujhko Tu

Yaad Bhi Tujhko Aa Naa Paoon Maa

to my mom and wagging my tail like a dog. With talks of me getting engaged raging mad peaks now, it's high time I get back to what people do when they have lost hope in life. Whisky. Pantaloon's fresh fashion Friday sale. Though they offer me only a sasta sa 5% discount for the Green Card, I think that is enough to come out of mourning for now :| Once the shopping is done, I am planning to run away so that I can postpone this imminent doom for as long as I can. You, as a loyal reader, can contribute in the form of cash, a meal a day and so on. That brings me to another point. All you rich guys(note the emphasis on rich) who have been admiring my distasteful style of writing and non-existent sense of humour from behind tall curtains websites, kindly push your applications across. Like they say, a known devil(even faceless) is better than an unknown angel.

In other news not worth giving your attention to, I have invested time and money into an awesome hobby, something that I have developed and worked on diligently for over 2 years - collecting admits of universities and not joining them. I am planning to put them all on auction. Maybe some Ranchhoddas Shyamaldas Chhanchad might want to frame them up and showcase them in his living room :|

Do I love the festivals we Tam Brahms have or what. This season of trading. First, too many delicacies at home to savour. And once the Gods have had their share, a portion invariably goes to nice neighbours. Notice why I say nice. Because they empty the plate, only to replenish it with their stock and send it back. Nice. Really nice neighbours. Then we have this nice custom called 'kaineettam', which is a euphemistic form of begging, wherein all the kids in the house get rewarded in cash and kind for nothing. See, such a ritual carries a lot of value in the lives of people like me, who make their living from whatever they receive as kaineettam. If you are or have been a software engineer, you will know that the high point of your day is the time you spend at the coffee machine or counting the keys on your keyboard. I mean, I don't even remember the last time I was paid for nothing.

Ok, so we are done with the Sania-Shoaib wedding. And with the hoopla that came with it. Can we now move to more serious issues? No, not Telangana. I am talking about this Youngistan ka WOW thingy. There is no denying I liked Ranbir Kapoor alright. But things between us haven't been smooth since Ajab Prem Ki Gajab Kahani. Eek, take that guy away, shooo.

62. And thou shall be called.........

I have managed to carry off a name like Bhargavi Gopalakrishnan non-chalantly for more than two decades now. Now, THAT is your Iyer label into this world. Why so specifically, you may ask. The feel, my friend. That's how you identify my breed. The name to a great extent gives it away :|

Having a name like that brings a lot of unwarranted problems in your life. More so, if you are a lazy bum person. The first of such attacks came on the day when we had to fill out our Class X forms. You know those sheets that have lots of boxes on it... Fill in you dad's name, mom's name, maid servant's brother-in-law's name.... followed by lots of circles with alphabets printed inside them. So, first you fill out your name in the boxes, and then colour all the corresponding letters in those circles. Imagine yourself with a name as short as mine and sitting beside one N-E-H-A V-E-R-M-A and doing all this. Half of my life has gone into such productive work.

Quite needless to say, we live in an impatient world. No one wants to put in so much time and effort into a fruitless activity. So what do we do? We shorten the name. Madrasis have this popular trend of adding their initials before / after their names followed by a dot. And thus, I became Bhargavi G. (and sometimes G. Bhargavi) to the world. The northern side of the country has a nice way of treating people with such peculiar(atleast to them) names. They mutate it. As a result, I hopped from 'Jai Bhairavi' to 'Bhargavi Jee(G)' to 'G dot Bhargavi. 8 out of 10 times, I am called Bhairavi or Bhagwati within 2 minutes after I have introduced myself to someone. Hmm, ok. Why Anu then? Good question. See, some in our clan have this unique and intelligent custom of giving their kids two names(sometimes three). Why? Dont ask me. Why I was not called this throughout? Solve this and you will solve the mystery of my existence. Obviously some noble soul thought I would do well to be reminded forever that I was named after the proud Bhrugu lineage.

With friends and others, the above funda doesn't work. Which is why we have names like Chi-chi, Bebo, Lulu, Duggu, Guddu, Sussoo still in existence. Following the same line of thought, I have been Jumbo(owing to size), Popat(owing to foot-in-mouth disease), Kinni(owing to lack of reasoning skills of people who named me so), Anu(owing to publicity of the same), Bhari, Bar and the likes(obvious and logically following) while friends with big names were happily being addressed as Ashu, Sid, Abhi, Sri, so on and so forth. :|

What's your story? Have you had embarassing nicknames ever? Funny? Silly? Witty? (A friend 'Abinav' is called "now nau", "now 9" etc. Abhi = now, Nav/nau = 9) :D 

57. Pongalised

One of the ironies of being a 'Madrasi'(yeah, in this part of the world, this is how saddi community is known. As if all that Tamilnadu has is Madras and nothing else) in Delhi is that you are like one of those 101 dalmatians - neither black nor white. You get treated like you are an outlaw. And things only get worse when it's Pongal time. You get Pongalised. Pongal-i-s-e-d? Whaaaat the heck is that!! It's a syndrome, hon. Tradition(and a True Blue Madrasi mom) demands that ganna/karumbu/sugarcane be purchased alongwith some other random stuff that sounds like a tongue twister. Fate had it that I go and buy all of it. In such cases, the best thing you can do is to either make your mom spell out what she wants else make her write it on a Post-it note. You know those ones, don't you? Arre yaar, those chhote chhote sticky on one side yellow papers. Still no? Arre the ones you see in that Kelloggs ad? Mummy, papa and son, all with those yellow papers stuck to their body, as if shooting for Ghajini. Right. So make your mom write and go hand it over to the shopkeeper guy. Obviously you run the risk of coming forward as illiterate to those around, but never mind. Pleasing THE MOM is very important. More so, when you know she is going to blackmail you by denying access to paal polis.

Now, look at the timing. Of all the sugarcanes he has in his stock, he chooses to give me one as tall as a ladder and with as many leaves as Adam and Eve would together have worn. The next 15 odd minutes had me carrying the ganna, like that white-washing guy in your house carries his ladder. I think I heard 2 random ladies whispering, "Saare madrasi aaj kood rahe hain idhar udhar ganna lekar". I am better off without explaining what that meant. U can still ask me, if need be, I'll give you that Hindi-English translation lexicon(note the usage of the word ; I am awesome when it comes to showing off) my mother used decades ago after this happened :

Ma : Bhaiya, nimbu kaise diye? (How much do the lemons cost?)

Shokeeper : Ded rupaye.( Rs. 1.50)

Ma : Ded? Bohot zaada hai. Main toh Dhaayi hi dunga.(1.50? Too costly. I'll give only 2.50) *Note the 'dunga'*

Shopkeeper : *prostrates* :D

I don't know how this works, but somehow, all the cute guys in the mohalla HAVE to see you ONLY on that day ; I even hit one with that sugarcane leaf when he tried giggling at me. Moron.

So. Tomorrow is the day. Do not try calling me. My landline stays busy throughout the day with people from across seven continents having taken it on themselves to wish us 'happy पोंगल'. Yes, that's how they pronounce it here. I didn't know how to write that in English, this is the closest I could get to how it sounds. Forget it, dude. I can't get to the point of explaining phonetics on my blog. :| Fellow South Indians will not spare you too. Yenna rascala, mind itttt! Highly intellectual conversations from the ladies of the house, including but not restricted to what payasam, what kolam, what new dress and whose husband did/did not volunteer with the preparations and festivities shall ensue. I know you will be more bothered about the dirt stuck under the nail of your little finger than knowing what I am doing tomorrow, so Happy Pongal, y'all!